Our Deaths of Fire and Floods
by TartanFly
Summary: Loki has sworn revenge on the entire universe for the death of his son Nari. With his children, he plans to destroy the Gods and everything they hold dear by bringing on Ragnarök. The Avengers have little time to prepare for the threats to their world, and this time they may just crack under the pressure. Rated M for blood, violence, mentions of torture, and vulgar language.
1. Prologue One

**PROLOGUE ONE**

The man stumbled down the street, his breath smelling bitterly of alcohol. He was drunk, too drunk to notice the bicyclers cursing at him as they veered to avoid a collision or the cars that screeched and honked as he wandered into the streets. He was giggling with the buzz and ignoring the police officers who only shouted warnings and did nothing else. He laughed again at the thought of losing his job, his reluctance to go home and let his wife know. She'd beat him again, for sure, and maybe even in front of the girls this time. Don't upset Mommy, they pleaded over and over. Don't upset Mommy.

"Don't upset Mommy!" he sang, whooping and jumping in a circle. He threw his arms out, smacking a woman in the face with his clenched fist. She screeched as blood ran from her nose. The nearest twenty guys jumped on him, beating him as well as they could while two of them held his arms behind his back. He felt his nose break in two different spots, felt a tooth chip, another one dislodge from his gum and cut the inside of his lip. But he didn't feel the pain, and laughed, choking on blood. Finally his assailants dragged him into an alley and dumped him on a pile of garbage bags, leaving him to laugh at the world and gargle his own life sap. He stopped, though, at a sound no one in the city of New York ever expects to hear: the heavy growling of a large predator.

He looked up, seeing a pair of glowing gold fireflies.

No, not fireflies.

Eyes. Golden, feral, canine eyes.

He sobered immediately, trying to scream as the creature crept up to him, but his voice seemed caught in his throat. He knew he wasn't going to be able to flee before it had taken his life. The wolf was blacker than the night sky above them, his lips pulled back in a snarl; clear saliva dripped from large fangs. Five thickly furred tails were ramrod straight behind him. His breath hitched, his chest puffing in and out quickly as he hyperventilated. The man had no time to scream before the wolf attacked.


	2. Prologue Two

**PROLOGUE TWO**

All that Loki could feel was the burning. The snake's head was suspended above him, his jaw locked open by pure magic as its thick poison dripped from delicately curved fangs onto his forehead, dribbling down onto his neck, into his ears and skull, in his eyes, down to the boulders below him to scald what of his body rested on the rocks, whose many points stabbed into his skin. Sometimes the head would move, burning his chest, stomach, and legs. And just as his wounds would heal and the pain was gone, more would fall onto him, starting the pain over again. But the worst part of his torture, specially orchestrated by Odin Allfather himself, was that his wrists and ankles were bound with the intestines of Nari. His own flesh-and-blood son, now dead because of the Aesir. Loki swore in between unbearable bouts of pain that his revenge for this would be greater than anything he'd done.

Suddenly the burning stopped, the night air cool against his sizzling skin. The snake screeched somewhere above him, but not directly over his head. He heard the squelching of something fleshy being ripped apart, and then he was free, being unbound from the rocks by swift hands. His eyes regenerated, dehydrated but functional. He caught the glimpse of a blurry familiar face before his eyelids grew, clenching shut to moisturize his eyes and stop the burning dry pain. Tears fell down his cheeks for multiple reasons, and he quickly wiped them away. When he dared to look, a young man was holding one of the entrails in his hands. A wet track leaned into the curve of his cheek where tears fell from his glaring eyes. His hands were bloody, strips of skin clinging to his curved nails. At his feet lay the remains of the accursed reptile.

"Odin will pay for this." he growled, his voice sounding more animal than human, and he looked up at his father. Rage and desperation and hope were alight in his eyes. Loki reached over and stroked a bloody hand through his son's hair.

"The _Aesir_ will pay," he corrected. Fenrir dried his face with the backs of his hand, reaching over to a dark shadow on the grass beside him. He took the dark green cloak and gingerly draped it around his father's sensitive re-grown skin. Loki clutched the smooth velvet around him as he stood carefully with his son's help. "Every last living thing will pay for what they have done."


	3. Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

**CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINNING OF THE END**

** A/N: Before anyone tries to correct me, I'd like to let you know that I am perfectly aware that it is actually Nidhogg who eats at Yggdrasil's roots, and not Jörmungandr, but it's easier for me to have switched them up for certain scenes in this story. So I did. Please do not try to correct me or throw a fit. Thank you.**

* * *

Thor looked up from his tower of pancakes suddenly, one cheek as large as a baseball from packing in as many flapjacks as he could as quickly as possible for him. He managed to dislocate his jaw and swallow all of it, jumping up from the table. Natasha's orange juice tipped over, and she jumped up to avoid the yellow liquid staining her clothes. All the while she was cursing in Russian. Steve and Tony exchanged looks before jumping up and following the God.

Thor was standing on the balcony, just at the edge, his gaze up to the heavens. The weather forecast had foretold sun all day, yet the clouds above StarkTower were swirling, turning a grayish black. What looked like multicolored lightening flashed inside the torrent.

"What is that?" Tony asked. He held up his cell phone. "JARVIS—"

"The Bifröst." Thor said before he could continue ordering his AI. Neither he nor Steve could see his face, but they way his shoulders were hunched and how low his voice was pitched, they could tell he was emotionally disturbed. "But I don't understand." He turned suddenly and stalked back inside. A protective yet menacing glower had overtaken his features.

"What's wrong?" Natasha demanded, but one look outside and she was silent. Her annoyance at her interrupted breakfast was gone, replaced by the professional curiosity she'd developed in her line of work. She put a hand to her hip, where a gun was tucked into the waistband of her pants. Her fingers curled expertly around it.

"Hey, check this out!" Clint called to them, the TV remote control in his hand. His thumb was mashing the increase-volume button hard enough to turn his fingertip white. His face was pale, drained of color. It took Tony a moment for his mind to register the words he was hearing and their meanings, coupled with the footage on the screen.

_"…unidentified body found in an alleyway this morning. Police state that the man was seen last night, beaten by a crowd of men after assaulting a young woman. Some of his assailants have already been arrested and are being held for questioning. Witnesses have said that he was found with strange claw-like marks in his body._" reported the petite blond anchorwoman. Tony narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow; he was pretty sure he'd slept with her.

Thor rushed back into the room, clutching Mjölnir in his hand. He was clad fully in his armor and cape, looking all the part of the regal prince. But he stopped to listen to the news report.

"_Rumors state that the man was missing his right hand, but as of yet, these rumors are unconfirmed._"

"No," the whisper was barely audible, horror dripping from the single syllable. Everyone turned to face him, but Thor was staring at the TV as if he was willing the electrical box to tell him more. "No, that can't be; it can't be happening, not yet. The signs are all wrong. They're out of order!" He rushed out onto the veranda again, his head snapping up to look at the swirling rainbow cloud.

"What's he talking about?" Clint asked as Steve dared to rush outside after him. Thor turned, seeming to give orders in the way he was pointing his hammer at Rogers. Natasha only shook her head. Tony considered going out to see why Thor was panicking like it was 1999 when he suddenly stepped away from Steve and began to spin his hammer. He leapt off the edge of the roof, flying toward the colorful tornado over Stark's tower. He collided with it in a loud, earth-shaking crack of thunder, and then the skies were once again peaceful.

Tony's phone, still clutched in his hand, began to vibrate. Everyone's head turned to look at him. He checked the caller ID, and answered with a flick of his thum. "Hey, Pep. What's up?"

"What just happened?!" she shrieked into the phone. Tony held the device away from his ear, wincing, until the ringing in his ears ceased and Pepper was silent on the other end.

"Hey, um, could I ask you _not_ to yell in my ear? Is that too much to ask of you this early in the morning?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "All I know is that Thor had a panic attack, pissed all over himself because of some story on the news, and flew into the rainbow tornado."

For a long moment there was silence on the other end of the line. Steve, who had walked in soon enough to hear Tony's brief and ignorant explanation, gave him a look that said _'Really, _that's _how you're putting it?'_

Pepper finally sighed heavily. "I don't have time for this. I'm on my way there now—Phil, tell him to turn left here. You can explain when we get there."

* * *

In Asgard, Thor was greeted by a solemn-faced Heimdall. He wrenched his sword from the mechanics of the Bifröst and fixed his fiery gaze on the prince. "Your father is holding council. I would recommend you not keep him waiting."

Thor nodded once, every muscle in his body tense with panic. "I won't. Thank you, my friend." Thor left the spinning cannon and flew to the reaching golden towers of the castle. He landed on the balcony just outside the dining hall. It was empty, except for Frigga, who paced back and forth; her golden curls were in disarray, and she hugged herself fiercely. Her face showed evidence of grieved sobbing, and when she spotted her son she ran to him, embracing him and kissing his cheek. She held him at arms' length, trembling from head to foot.

"Go now, my son." she ordered in a steely voice, but her chin had begun to quiver. Thor kissed his mother's forehead and left to the throne room. The castle seemed deserted as he walked through, unable to find even an errand boy to fetch him a goblet of wine. But as soon as he entered the throne room he could see why. Every able-bodied man was dressed for battle, clutching some form of weapon. Sif was the first to spot him, and for a moment a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. The Warriors were next. Everyone was solemn.

"Father," Thor greeted Odin, kneeling before him. Odin shook his head slowly, motioning with his hand that Thor should stand. His expression was grim, his thin lips pressed together. His one eye gleamed.

"I am sure, my son, that you have seen the signs." Odin said.

"They are out of order, Father." Thor began. "Fimbilvetr—"

"It is not coming." he snapped, interrupting him. "Loki has set things in motion far quicker than we had anticipated." Odin stroked his beard. "The snake placed above his head was found ripped in twain, and his binds were not broken. Someone allowed him from his imprisonment. We have no time to waste, boy."

"Allfather," Sif began, hesitating when his haunted gaze focused on her. "What can we do? Loki has cloaked himself so that not even Heimdall can find him."

"Well, for starters, you could listen."

At the sound of his voice echoing across the halls everyone turned to the entrance. Loki stood on the bottom stair across the grand hall, his head cocked to the side. He was dressed in simple black leather and golden armor, a dash of green thrown in for some color variation. His hair was longer since the last time Thor had seen him, almost to his waist. "I apologize for my state of dishevelment," he said. His mouth was a straight pale pink line as he spoke, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "But, you see, I have not had much time to prepare myself for such a formal meeting."

The guards around them moved into battle stances. Not one to waste time, Thor launched himself at Loki. He, and his outstretched hammer, passed through his slight frame, a part of him not surprised and cursing at him for falling for such a simple yet overused trick once again. He landed, hard, on the polished stone and rolled back up into a crouch. Loki looked back at him over his shoulder, a mocking smile on his lips and a dark eyebrow arched high upon his forehead.

"Are you done?" he asked him. "Because I actually have something important to say."

Thor took a deep, controlled breath, but he did not leap at the projection. His heart was racing in his chest. Loki still bore marks of his punishment: bruises circled his wrists like grotesque bracelets, and pink stripes of his skin were still burned, shining in the flickering lights. Loki turned his glare on Odin. The God of Mischief was no longer hiding behind petty magic tricks and riddling words. His dark brows narrowed in an anger Thor had never seen before.

"You, Odin," he hissed, his voice quiet but managing to echo across the room, "will pay dearly for what you have done to me." His hands, clenched together behind his back, tightened their grip until his knuckles drained of color. Odin merely watched the boy, waiting for him to lash out with some magic or curse, but Loki remained where he was.

"You were punished for your crimes."

"YOU KILLED MY SON!"

His pained scream bounced off every wall, echoing back and hammering in its meaning each time the words reached Thor's ears. Odin stiffened as the eyes of his people, his loyal warriors, his family, turned upon him in disbelief and fear. Thor looked at his father, unable to beg with his words and did so with his eyes, pleading that Loki's words were not true. Odin did not look at him.

"You bound me with my son's entrails and left me to rot and regenerate beneath the dripping mouth of a serpent." With each word Loki's voice trembled with hate. "When I wasn't in too much pain to think, all I could see in my mind was my own flesh and blood, my child, being torn apart for nothing."

"You brought it upon him." Odin said calmly, only emphasizing Loki's rage. "Now you understand how your mother and I felt after all that time, thinking we'd lost you."

"SILENCE!" Loki shouted, though it was more of a plea than an order. Even at his backwards angle Thor could see his brother's eyes begin to shine, though not a tear fell down his cheek. His chest ached as he watched his brother go through such pain, knowing he was unable to help him. "I am taking back from you everything that was once mine. I will destroy everything that you, and the Aesir, hold dear to your hearts."

"Everything?" The word escaped Thor's lips before he could stop it. Loki turned his smoldering gaze onto his brother. Though the anger has softened it was still there, lurking in the wrinkles of his knitted brow and the sparking green magic just behind his eyes.

"Yes," he said clearly, ultimately. "Even if it means I must destroy myself."

With that final word Loki vanished in a sparking mist of yellowish-green magic. Below them Sleipnir's whinny could be heard, too far away for comfort. Thor rushed to a window, dropping Mjölnir onto the floor as he shoved armored guards out of his path. Eventually they cleared the way for him. From his view he could see the beast galloping across the Bifröst, a rider on his back whom Thor couldn't recognize. The animal was galloping toward a portal. From the shape of the helmet on the second person next to the rip, he knew it to be Loki. The rider and horse disappeared through the door, but Loki stopped, hesitating just before it. Thor let himself pretend that he was looking up at them and longing to return to Asgard, to the side of his brother and father. But that farce only made the disappointment of his retreat weigh heavier on his chest.

Thor looked to his father, seeing in him what Loki must. He knew his father to be cruel at times, but to have gone so far as to have killed his son's child to punish him? Banishment and murder were heavily different ways to punish his children, crimes set aside.

"It had to be done." Odin said, answering the questions swimming in Thor's eyes with such meager words. The court once again looked to face him. "There are hundreds of people feeling the same pain because of his actions on Midgard."

"His children have done nothing against us." Thor argued, and several men and women raised their voices to support him. The cacophony of anger continued as Odin stood, his eye narrowed. Finally, when they realized he was not going to react to their anger, the crowd died down.

"He will bring the end of the worlds with him, Thor." Odin said, as if forgetting the entire exchange that had happened between him and his adoptive child. "You must gather your friends to protect the Earth."

"Father—"

"I will go to the other realms and let them know what has happened. We may be able to gather enough allies to stop him."

Thor could only watch as his father left the hall, refusing to speak any more on the matter. The eyes of his friends and warriors turned on him, looking conflicted and lost. Sif's face had begun to flush, though she retained her fierce demeanor, and for once Volstagg was not gorging himself on food.

"Return to your posts." he finally ordered, and looked up at them. "I will send word if and when you are needed elsewhere."

He paused in the hall only to retrieve his hammer. Sif and the Warrior's Three followed him out, not asking anything of him but letting their curiosity show on their faces. When they were out of earshot of the others Sif reached forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him. Her eyes were wide and confused.

"What is happening, Thor?" she demanded desperately, her eyes searching his face. The Warriors stood by, watching the exchange. Thor couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. "Answer me!"

"The end. Ragnarök." It sounded even grimmer when he spoke the word aloud. Singularly the color drained from the faces of his friends. Sif released him as if simply mentioning the word made him poison to her. "I must go and warn the people on Earth. We have to put a stop to this."

"It can't be." Fandral said. "The signs, they haven't appeared yet."

"But they have. Fenrir has been released." Thor turned to his friends. "Do what you can to aid my father while I help protect the Earth." Thor took a wrong turn down the hallway, causing his friends to chase after him again. "I'm going to the roots of Yggdrasil. I must see if Jörmungandr has broken free. If he has begun poisoning the skies…" Thor stopped as he realized he'd planned to do exactly what his father had done. He couldn't kill his own nephew, as desperate as the situation was. Sif swallowed, seeing it in his eyes.

"Understood. We will do as you say."

"Wait, what—" Fandral began to ask, but Sif grabbed his arm and silence him with a look before she left, the men flanking close behind her.


	4. Chapter Two: They Begin to Crumble

**CHAPTER TWO: THEY BEGIN TO CRUMBLE**

**A/N: I feel the need to apologize for how long it took for me to get this written, proofread, and published. But the last part of this chapter wanted to go five different ways (literally; I kept them around in case none of them worked and I could fix one up). But my last year of high school has just begun, so I can't promise an even publishing schedule for the next nine months. I can only hope to do as much as I can to keep you guys hooked! So, with that said, I won't hold you any longer.**

* * *

Thor knew what to expect when he descended to the roots of Yggdrasil. He expected the giant serpent to continue gnawing at the winding tendrils that kept the tree alive. What he did not expect was the tall figure standing below him, dressed in black armor just lighter than the mess of hair atop his head. He didn't turn to face him as he approached.

"You know," he began, making Thor stop carefully in his tracks. "Sometimes I wonder if he can even understand when I'm speaking to him." Fenrir turned to face his uncle, an expression of almost-annoyance on his face. "After all his time spent down here without any communication at all, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that his mind had regressed far back enough to only understand such simple tasks."

Thor didn't speak. Fenrir had taken a human shape, looking every bit like his father. He had the same lanky form and sharp cheekbones and shock of raven hair. But his eyes were feral and gold, narrowed in a scowl directed at him. Thor flexed his grip on his hammer, his actions not going unnoticed. Fenrir's eyes flicked down and back up quickly.

"Did you come here to kill him?" Fenrir asked, drawing a large serrated knife from his belt. "I've lost one brother to you conceited Gods. I refuse to let you harm another one of my siblings."

"I will not harm him." Thor said, holding up a peaceful hand, his palm facing the boy. His brow furrowed, much in the way his father's did, and his gaze once again traveled to Mjölnir.

"But you were going to." Fenrir tucked the blade back into its sheath, slowly taking steps closer to him. "If he had broken free and breathed his poisons upon the nine realms. Am I wrong, Uncle?" he asked when Thor didn't speak. His silence was his answer, and the child grinned triumphantly.

"Who are you to pretend you are better than us? Than your father? All of you are the same when it all comes down to it." Fenrir was close enough for Thor to smell him, the musk of earthy soil still clinging to his skin and hair. "The realms will die, and their people with it. You cannot stop us."

"Then at least promise me you will not release him." Thor met those wild eyes, widened in confusion. "Swear on your blood, on your _life_, that you will not allow Jörmungandr to reach Midgard, and I will not harm him."

Fenrir's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Thor wondered if his strict tone was mistaken for a threat. But the boy smiled a grin Thor wouldn't trust enough to put his back to.

"Very well." he agreed. "I swear on the blood of my Jötun father and mother that I will not allow my brother to leave his task of eating the World Tree." His tone made Thor nervous, almost as if he was asking which was the lesser of two evils. But the Norns were still able to revive what Jörmungandr ate, so he nodded once to the boy before him, who was raising an eyebrow at his silence.

"You have my thanks." he said to him. Fenrir scoffed, rolling his eyes sassily. They both waited a moment, hoping the other would leave, but finally Thor could not stay any longer. "I wish you to know, at least, that I never knew the details about Loki's…punishment. Um, if I may ask—"

"It was Nari." Fenrir interrupted. Thor blinked, startled. "That _is_ what you were going to ask, wasn't it? If I wasn't the dead son, who was?" Fenrir's voice broke on the last word, but he gave no other sign of weakness, nor did he acknowledge the shake in his voice. His eyes met Thor's evenly, but something flashed in his gaze. Thor only nodded, and with a final bow he left for Earth. He couldn't stall any longer, and they would need as much time as they could to prepare for the end of the world.

* * *

Tony had been working on a new weapon for his suits when Pepper came down to his workshop. She quickly entered her code into the lock and opened the door. Tony admired the navy blue pencil skirt she was wearing, deciding he liked the way the sleek fabric hugged her hips a little too tightly. "Thor is back," she told him, and her strained voice snapped his mind from the gutter. He bolted from his chair, dropping his wrench from his lap. Pepper followed him out of the room and upstairs. Thor had been in mid-story, but paused as he pounded loudly up the stairs. Everyone looked disturbed. Natasha was hugging her arms, and Clint, unable to give her physical comfort without his wellbeing coming to harm, simply leaned over her from behind the couch. Steve was wringing his hands, his gaze trained on a spot in the carpet.

"What's wrong? Movie night get cancelled?" he asked, trying to get a smile from someone. Steve didn't even give him a look for his poor joke. Thor nodded, the humor flying way above his head, as usual.

"Much worse, my friend." he said in a grave voice. "Loki has set in motion something worse than his last plan for this world."

"What is worse than aliens taking over the earth?" he asked, taking a spot next to the anxious Captain on his leather couch.

"Ragnarök; the end of it."

Tony flinched, sitting up in a more business-like position. "As I was about to tell, there are foretold signs of Ragnarök's approach." Thor dropped himself into a recliner, and Tony could have sworn he heard the frame creak. "First is Fimbulvetr, the Winter of Winters. Then war will break out, even between family. The concept of morality will vanish from human perspective."

"That's kind of dark."

"Tony, please take this seriously." Steve said, and cracked his knuckles. "This isn't a bank robbery. We're talking about the Apolcalypse here."

"Okay, fine, but where does Loki fit into all of this? Because—no offense, big guy—I was never really one for magical deities no one had ever actually seen before. Religion isn't my strong point."

"It was foretold years ago that Loki and his kin would be the end of this world. After Loki's first attempt, with the Chitauri, my father realized that this was true. He…punished Loki, bound him so that he could never escape. But he is free, and it is that freedom that begins the end of the nine worlds."

"So what's going to happen?"

Thor stood once again, wringing his hands and cracking his knuckles. He wouldn't look at any of them.

"I do not know." he finally admitted. "The signs, they are all out of order. Nothing is right. I do not know what will come next. We can only wait and see, and fight it when it comes." He stood, crossing his large arms over his chest. "I will be traveling between Asgard and this world in the meantime, helping gather allies from the other realms and bringing back word on what is happening. We may be able to predict Loki's next move."

* * *

Fenrir found his father with Sleipnir. He was looking straight into the animal's eyes, stroking the side of his face, his neck. Fenrir said nothing, waiting until he was noticed. "Were you caught?" was all his father had to ask.

"Yes. Thor approached before I could do anything. He forced me to swear I would not release him."

Loki laughed, dropping his hands to his side. Sleipnir leaned over the door of his stable, sniffing at his father's hands and begging for more attention. Fenrir ran a hand through his brother's tangled mane. "It makes sense for him to worry about that before the humans." Loki turned to his son, his head inclined slightly. His hair was cut short once more, just exposing the skin on the back of his neck and curling around his earlobes. All traces of the burns were gone. "It does not matter. Jömungandr's time will come. For now, we will lie in wait. My magic must return to me, and your strength is depleted from your years of detainment." Loki embraced his son. "For now, we will spend some time together."

* * *

The realm was dark, and it smelled of rotting flesh and pain. Blood spattered the floor as Fenrir walked through the castle. Skeletons in tuxedoes offered him various beverages and foodstuffs, waived away by the one escorting him through the black halls. Outside the glass windows the souls of the dead pressed themselves against the transparent surfaces, wailing and crying. Fenrir could hear them from inside, and he felt no pity. He even laughed at one as another attempted to crawl over him, losing his balance and wrenching off the other's head as he fell. They were half rotten creatures, their bones and innards exposed as they slowly decomposed to become the bony servants of the mistress of their world.

Hel was lounging on a plush red sofa, the seat ripped in several places and allowing the stuffing to show and fall out. One man was brushing what was left of her long golden hair, another attending to the three fingernails she had claim to. The fleshed side of her face smiled and her dark eyes brightened up as he entered, bowing to his sister.

"It has been a long while, sister." he greeted her, standing. She rose, her black dress draping around her emaciated figure. She stepped down from her royal perch and embraced her brother. Her bone fingers dug into his arm, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from grunting in pain. He'd discarded his armor for more casual clothing, which mainly consisted of robes of black cotton. His knife was tucked into his boot, carefully hidden but still easily accessible.

"Indeed." she said, and pulled back to look at him. "Last I heard, you'd broken out of Utgård. How did you manage it?" She brushed a strand of hair from his face lovingly.

"I have connections," was all he had time to answer before Hel grabbed his chin in her skeleton hand and held his face up in the candlelight. Her fleshy finger touched the corner of his mouth, her skin stiff and cold.

"You have scars," she said simply, and clicked her tongue. "Painful, surely."

"Agonizing." he answered, knowing that it hadn't been a question. "I am overjoyed to be able to see you again, my sister, but a family visit is not why I have come."

Hel's half-smile vanished, replaced with a tightly pursed frown. Her teeth were clenched together, grinding as she looked at him. "I know why you are here." she told him in a grave voice. "I'll have you know that I do not approve of what you two are doing."

Fenrir was thankful of his ability to control his facial features. Otherwise he would have given his sister, the Ruler of the Damned, the nastiest glare he could muster. Instead he swallowed stiffly and kept his expression cool.

"I know you're angry with me," she continued, releasing him and making her way to a far window. Fenrir watched her a moment before following. "But when I have to watch the just a legion of the entirety of the Dead, I don't have time for piteous trials such as Father's revenge." She turned to look at him, her eyes heavy and sad. "I love you, and I love our Father just as much. But I cannot distract myself from the task I have been given."

"It was _Odin_ who banished you to this place. Are you not angry? Do you not want a better life than doing this?"

Hel did not speak for a long time, her gaze trained on the world outside. The blood red sky was lit up with an orange sun. Some of the dead were being punished, tied to wooden stakes and burned, others being drawn, quartered, revived, and repeated. One man was tied with his hands and legs spread, two long hooks raking slowly down his back. But Fenrir could only barely hear their screams, their cries of pain for mercy and forgiveness. What he _could_ hear was the wicked, mad laughter of the men doing the torturing.

"I can't remember a life before this anymore." she said. "I don't remember Asgard, or anything. Only this. Only pain and blood and endless despair." She turned once again to him, her cheeks wet with tears. "This is where I belong now. Surely you understand?"

Fenrir couldn't think of a proper verbal response, so instead he just nodded to her. She smiled, using an edge of her dress to blot away her tears.

"I won't disallow you use of my demons." she said, her voice surprisingly steady. She took his hand in both of hers. "If you were to open a portal, I would neither order nor stop them from passing through."

"Your compliance is much appreciated, sister."

Hel smiled and kissed his cheek. "Say hello to Daddy for me, will you?"

* * *

Weeks, months, passed by without a hint from Loki. Bruce returned from his work in Calcutta to assist Tony with the scanners when they weren't on patrol. Meanwhile, morality seemed to be on a downward incline, just as Thor had predicted. Bar fights, burglaries, and murders were on the rise. News reporters blamed drugs. Bloggers blamed cults and the government. But only S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers knew the truth. The two scientists were working as fast as they could, scanners set up to recognize the fluctuation of opening portals and magical elements. For a long time, other than the climbing rate of crime, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then, one day, when Tony was unconscious on the couch upstairs and Steve was attempting conversation, something beeped sporadically. Dr. Banner rushed to a computer monitor, using his hands to increase the size of what looked like a virtual model of New York City. Something big was ripping a hole in the skies above.

"Go alert the others, and send Tony down." Bruce ordered, his hands flying over the keyboard. Not one to question when advanced technology was involved, Steve dashed from the room and up the stairs, his military training beginning to kick in. He shouted at Tony that Dr. Banner needed him, and with a sassy salute a half-conscious Stark leapt over the back of the couch and past him. Thor was already on his feet, clutching Mjölnir and dressed for battle. Clint leapt up from the recliner, abandoning his bag of potato chips. He attempted to mention something about Natasha, but his words were rushed and jumbled and he finally gave up and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

"Can you tell what it is?" he dared to ask. Thor's jaw was clenched, but he shook his head slowly.

"I have a strong feeling, Captain," was the Thunderer's reply, and he spoke no more as the rest of the team assembled, suited and ready for battle. Steve felt his stomach clench like it always did before they went on missions, but this time was different; they would be battling forces they'd never seen before. Fighting Loki had been a challenge, even though he had somewhat known what he was expecting. The guy was a God, with powers beyond human capabilities. But this one had a part to play in the Apocalypse, and somehow that was more daunting than a man with a large helmet and a glowing stick.

* * *

Thor left before them without so much as a word as to what his plan was. Steve could feel the pit of his stomach twisting with nerves, and while not unusual for when he led his team on missions, something about this one—knowing that it was a power greater than himself hellbent on destroying his home—made him question every plan, every military tactic he knew, going over them in his head and finding the many faults without finding a way to fix them. This was like nothing he'd ever thought he'd have to experience. Not even their battle against Loki almost a year and a half ago had made him this scared. He flexed his fingers on the grip of his shield and cleared his throat. His teammates moved as one to raise their eyes and look at him.

"We find Thor, and we back him up." he said as Clint and Natasha landed their small black jet on the helipad of Stark Tower. Without another word they flooded into the aircraft. As an afterthought, he added, "And be careful around this one. Remember, we assume he's on Loki's side unless he proves otherwise."

"Guillty until proven innocent?" Tony bantered. The Captain shot him a look. He couldn't tell whether or not the guarded look in the man's eyes was a true challenge, or if he was just as nervous about this as Steve but wasn't handling it like an adult. He didn't take the billionaire's bait, instead turning his attention to the pilots.

"Where did they go?"

"Times Square." Clint answered, flicking a switch on the complicated control board of the flying ship. "Apparently this guy just started stabbing people out of freaking nowhere. I think this is the first time in history that the place has been completely deserted."

Steve nodded, letting out a heavy, stiff sigh. He didn't ask anymore questions, afraid of knowing the answer. Whoever had said that ignorance was bliss wasn't too far off the mark.

* * *

Thor watched his nephew slowly descend from the large red staircase in the middle of the square. There was a cocky swagger to his step, as if he was slightly drunk. A blade was clutched in his right hand, the blade drying a dark red-violet color from the blood. There was a confident smile on his face. Bodies were lying facedown on the pavement around them, plastered by their drying life sap.

"Stop this, Fenrir," he ordered, and the boy halted, one foot on the pavement below. He inclined his head slightly to the right, an eyebrow disappearing underneath his tangled bangs.

"Or what?" he challenged. "You'll kill another one of my siblings? You'll punish someone who wasn't involved just to make me feel pain?" His smile widened as the color drained from Thor's face, his jaw clenching tight enough to make a muscle jump. "Isn't that how you Aesir handle punishment? Or is that reserved for lesser beings?"

Thor flinched as if the boy had cut him with his knife. No matter how hard he tried, not matter how far down he tamped his feelings and how many locks he put on his heart, the only person he could see standing before him was his nephew. The fighting urge was slowly draining out of him.

"I do not want to harm you," he said. "If you will give up now, if you will admit your mistakes, Fenrir, I will convince the Allfather that you do not deserve punishment."

"And then what?" he asked just as the Avenger's jet flew over their heads, the displaced air throwing their hair around wildly. "You'll send me back to Utgård? You'll have me bound with that accursed ribbon and place the sword between my teeth again?" His grip flexed on the handle of his weapon as he watched them land. No words were said, though Thor could hear them stepping off from the contraption. "Are these your warriors?" he asked loudly.

"I implore of you, cease this ridiculous scheming." he said. "I do not want to hurt you."

"That makes one of us." He laughed, and turned to put his back to Thor. He began to whisper magicked words, words that Thor had heard only once from Loki. It was the chant to open a portal straight from his daughter's land, and that wasn't good. The smell of the bloody bodies killed by him would attract the worst of Hel's mutated creations, given enough time. One of many quadrapedal bodies stepped through, growling and baring black teeth. Fire shone from their skulls, and smoke burst from their nostrils whenever they let out a heavy, huffy breath. "Hellhounds." he explained to the borderline-horrified humans behind Thor. "My favorite, personally." He pursed his lips and whistled, shrill and short and loud. The dogs howled and charged for the attack.

* * *

Tony had never faced any sort of demon from hell (not in the literal sense), but he was finding the molten dogs difficult to deal with. Just as he had figured out the right combination of attacks and attack power, twenty more were coming through the shimmering portal. On the otherside of the interdimensional rip in space he could see a dark, ugly world that only the word Hell could possibly describe. He tried not to look at it, tried to ignore the screams of the damned as he shot a dog in midair. The cracked, burning bodies exploded with a squealing hiss; it was akin to the sound of baking a potato too long in the microwave mixed with a deflating balloon. The hot sludge of its insides spattered onto the pavement, hissing and bubbling as the contact with the cold asphalt, and large black chunks dried on it. He looked over to see the Hulk fighting to handle the canines. Blisters had formed on his ivy skin, and he was bleeding from the wrists down, still tearing the burning animals apart and screaming in pain. His chest lurched.

"Cap!" he shouted, ducking another flying set of dripping teeth and shooting a barrage of his shoulder rockets into the animal's soft underbelly.

"I got him!" Rogers replied, and bashed in a skull with his shield just before the giant creature could grab another. "Go, help Thor!"

Tony would have loved to help Thor.

The giant Thunder God had gotten the easier part of the battle, taking on the kid. However, he seemed intent on not harming him, leading to many wild hammer swings that missed for miles and several dents in his armor from where the boy had kicked and jabbed at him—despite his thin, wiry frame, the boy seemed to possess a strength even beyond Thor's. Sparks flew as another one of the circular discs on his chest caved in, and Thor gasped in pain. He twisted his hammer and jammed the non-lethal end towards the boy's eye. He ducked just in time, instead the weapon connecting with his temple. Blood dripped down his face as he caught his fall on his hands and somersaulted to a battle crouch. His flipped his knife over in his hands to where the blade pointed down, but at that moment Tony had three huge dogs snapping towards his face and had to twist into a move that an Olympic gymnast would be envious of to avoid decapitation.

* * *

Thor took Fenrir's pause down in his crouch, studying him, to take inventory of his injuries. There were many bruises along his chest and stomach, a gash across his nose and cheekbone that had almost resulted in a lost eye (exactly like his father's, Thor found ironic), and maybe a cracked or broken rib from that last kick. He was feeling fatigued and, despite Fenrir's fierce glare, he could see the tiredness in his nephew's eyes.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he winced whenever it leaked into the open cut above his eye. His hair was tangled and wild, some of the inky black locks sticking to his face and neck. The few blows Thor had allowed to land had also dented the boy's armor, which seemed to act more as a metaphor for his true body than protection. He could only pray that those spots of caved in metal weren't serious fractures or internal rips.

"Thinking about giving up?" Fenrir gasped, and dove at him again. This time his rammed his shoulder into Thor's stomach, following with his blade. The steel sank a good three and a half inches into Thor's side before he grabbed the boy's wrist and ripped it back out. Fenrir was smart, though, and had angled it so that coming out, it did almost as much damage as going in. Thor roared in pain and instinctively threw the boy. His body sank into the concrete as he slid away. Thor reached down and tentatively touched the burning in his ribs. He could feel ribbons of ripped skin and muscle, and his hand came away dripping red.

"Thor!" Clint called from his perch atop the helicopter. "You okay?"

"I am fine, my friend!" he called back with a casual wave of his bloody hand. The gesture didn't help the color in his friend's cheeks. If anything, he turned an even paler shade before his attention was grabbed away by a dog prowling for a weakness in their aircraft. Fenrir was getting to his feet, shaking his head. A thick cloud of grey dust fell from his hair, and still clung to it, turning it a rather pale shade of almost a bluish-grey. There was a cut along his cheek, clotted with more dust. His features were twisted into a glower of pure rage. His lips were curled back, revealing black gums. Behind him the Metal Man made a grunt somewhere between intrigue and disgust. Thor lowered his hammer, holding his hand out to his nephew as he climbed out of the knee-deep channel his body had carved into the street. "Enough, Fenrir. Let us end this fight. If you surrender to us now, I promise that I will not allow you punishment."

"And then what?" he snarled, and spat in his direction. "Send me back to Utgård to be bound below the earth? Will you place a sword in my mouth again?!" he shouted. Thor had seen them, the thin strips of shiny, puckered pink along the corners of his mouth, causing his lips to part jus a teeny bit wider than they naturally should. It made his chest ache. "I'll tell you exactly what will happen if I do." Fenrir sheathed his blade, and with each word stepped closer to Thor. "You'll present me as a deserter to your father, he'll order some _ungodly_ punishment—ha ha, get it?—and you will stand there, _saying nothing_, not fighting for my _freedom_ or anything else I deserve as an existent being in this world. You will renege on every promise you have just made to me, and you will not feel guilty about it."

Thor could feel the eyes of his friends on his back, burning metaphorical holes into the cape and armor on his back. He tried to ignore them. "I have been cowardly in the presence of my father's anger. I admit this. But you're family—"

"Shut your traitor mouth! I do not claim any relation to your kind, and I never will. If you say so again, I will kill you."

Behind him the air displaced itself, sucking inward until a portal ripped open behind him. Thor could only see a swirling blackness within.

"It seems your analysis is over." Fenrir's voice was suddenly calm, no trace of the anger left behind. He even smiled. "I must go now. Rest assured, you pitiful creatures, we will meet again."

On that final note he stepped through the portal, disappearing.

* * *

The door to Hell disappeared, taking with it what was left of the demon dogs. Bruce, once again shrunk down to human size, was wearing a new set of clothes that were stained with blood from his bleeding hands. Steve was busy wrapping gauze around the injured man's hands and muttering to himself. The jet was in the air, flying back to Stark's Tower. No one had spoken to the God since the armored boy called Fenrir had disappeared. Silently he'd lowered his hand and retreated back into the small plane. They'd found him sitting in one of the passenger chairs, his elbows braced on his knees and his large hands clasped together. His long hair hid his face from them, and he didn't move, didn't speak. Not even Tony, who held his helmet propped against his hip, had said anything. Not much seemed to truly disturb the God, but the past few weeks had been almost too much for him.

"No one's going to say it?" he finally asked. Steve shot him a warning look from underneath his eyelashes as he pinned the makeshift bandages together. "I can't be the only one wondering what just happened."

Natasha turned from her seat in the copilot's chair and shot him a warning glance. Bruce swallowed and stayed silent.

"I knew this was coming." Thor said. He finally looked up, though he would not meet the eyes of his friends. "I knew Fenrir was working with Loki, but I did not expect an attack. Not this soon. We have no allies yet."

"Really?" Tony asked, turning to face him. "And in the meantime, your batshit-crazy brother has freaking Satan on his side?"

"Not Satan." Thor said. His hands fisted at the adjective Tony had used to describe Loki. "Hel. His daughter."

"Fenrir mentioned that you were also family." Bruce added quietly. "Is he also one of Loki's children?"

Thor did look at him for that, giving him a long, undecipherable glance. "Yes. His oldest son."

"There are a few things you should explain." Steve sat next to Thor and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He flinched as if the man had struck him. "We can't go into another battle like this and get taken by surprise so violently like this."

Thor nodded slowly. "Perhaps we should wait until we land." he said. "There is much to tell, and so little time to do it."


	5. Chapter Three: Our Numbers Are Few

**A/N: Let me sincerely apologize for the great delay in writing this chapter. It's not my favorite, but it's somewhat necessary. Life has kind of knocked me down a bit: I'm barely getting by in my math class and last week my pet of 10 years, my sweet baby kitty Ozzie, died. We've been dealing with her and the new cat we got recently. Because of this I haven't had the time to write. However, I worked to get this one chapter out for you all, my lovely readers. And so now, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy this installment here. **

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: OUR NUMBERS ARE FEW**

"How dare you show your face here."

Loki was not at all surprised to see his mistress angry. He had even been expecting the lance of ice she hurled his way, and easily teleported across the room to dodge it; it exploded into a hundred bluish-white shards against a far wall. At his suddenly close proximity she flinched, trying to inch away. Instead he grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, in a grip she had no hope of breaking. Slowly the blue spread from their point of contact, up his arm and across his face. His eyes reddened and darkened. She could not deny his attractiveness, even as the hatred burned like hellfire deep in the pit of her stomach. It was what had driven her to him after his brother's brutal murder of her mate. Even now, his eyes were narrows and lips pursed into an almost smile, and it made her icy knees weak. When he leaned in and placed kiss upon her frost-tinted lips, she felt herself succumb, only for a second. When she could gather her strength she pushed him away. The sick yellowish skin tone of one raised in Asgard washed over him again.

"Love, what has got you so angry at me?" he asked, holding his hands up. "I have not yet sent any Jötun to Midgard. I am being careful with the men that are of my own blood."

"And it is in that that you disrespect what they are." she snarled at him, hugging her arms to resist the urge to touch him. Every time they met, it resulted in bed-lying, and she was not going to give him another child at this point in time, when the realms were on the verge of collapse and death. "You disrespect them."

"Sending Frost Giants and Hellhounds into the same battle seems like a bad strategy." Loki admonished quietly, as if he were lecturing a child. Angrboda bit her tongue, pressing her lips together in a frown. "I do not come here to demand another child from you. Only that I heard you still doubt me."

"I am scared." she said. "For my own children. For Hel and Jömungandr. And mostly for Fenrir."

"Why him especially?" Loki inquired, having the gall to incline his head in curiosity. Angrboda turned away from that sly smile; he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and the sick bastard was actually _enjoying_ it.

"Because he is the only one directly involved with you." she answered. "He loves you too much; he'll blindly follow you anywhere as long as it pleases you. And that makes him reckless. He doesn't look out for himself—he's never been taught how to—and I'm scared that I will lose him."

She was silent after that, afraid that if she spoke anymore her fear and worry would manifest into tears. After an agonizingly long silence Loki approached her, reaching tenderly for her hand. She looked up, surprised to see a hard, unrelenting frown on his face. Tears danced in his eyes, but he easily blinked them away. His skin had turned blue again, the odd lighting and the grooved whorls on his skin casting shadows that made him look older.

"I lost one son to them." he said in a low voice, almost a growl. "And I will not give them another. I'd rather they took my life before his. And I swear to you, Angrboda, I will not let Fenrir die. Just as I have promised Svartalfheim, and just as I have promised the giants of this realm, I will spare him from his intended fate on the day Ragnarök truly begins." Without breaking skin contact, Loki moved his hand up her arm, over her shoulder and neck, to rest it on his lover's cheek. "I only wish you would show me the same support for this as our child."

Angrboda's breath hitched. "I will encourage my son," she answered. "As long as you do not get him killed."

Loki smiled at her before vanishing into thin air.

* * *

The Avengers sat in what was the equivalent of a living room in Stark's Tower and contemplated their existences for a moment. Thor still kept his head down, even after he finished his lengthy explanation of what they were about to face. Pepper had come in midway, hearing something disturbing enough to her that she'd sat next to Natasha on the sofa and listened to the rest of the gruesome tale. Tony had watched the color slowly drain from her face. Later Fury himself barged in, and forced Thor to start from the beginning. Hesitantly, the God wasted thirty minutes of Tony's already busy life explaining something he already knew. When he finished, no one had spoken for a long time.

"You're going to die?" Steve finally asked. It was barely above a whisper. For a moment they'd thought Thor had not heard him. But finally he unclasped his hands to place them on his knees.

"Yes." There was a pause, as if he was allowing that confirmation to sink in. "According to the prophet High, I will kill Jörmungandr, but during the battle he will poison me, and I will perish." He finally looked up, flinching at every set of eyes he dared to meet. Even he seemed uncomfortable with the talk of his own death. Tony wondered how often the remembrance popped into his slightly thick blond head. He wondered if it ever disturbed the God, knowing how he would die, waiting for the signs of the end to show before he began to count down the days. Knowing how much time he had left would certainly bother him. He found the thought ironic as he stood from the recliner; he'd once known down to the very minute how he would go.

"We sent Loki to receive justice on Asgard," Fury snapped, never moving from his power stance in front of Thor. "Not to find another reason to want to destroy us. And now he comes back, intent on obliterating the entire universe? I want to know exactly how that madman escaped."

"His son freed him from his binds." Thor answered, brave enough to look the man in the eye. Something appeared in his eyes, just for a moment, and then it was gone, replaced by a hardened defense. "Though, I do wonder how Fenrir managed to free himself. Gleipnir was made so that not even his strength would be enough to break it." He stood, towering over the Director, and easily stepped past him, looking to the skies.

"Will the Bifröst open?" Clint asked. Thor shook his head slowly.

"I am just thinking." he replied, and after crossing his arms, the God neither spoke no moved for a long time.

* * *

Magni walked cautiously through the winding hallways of Utgård, his eyes darting into even the darkest of corners for any signs of the patrolling Jötuns. They didn't seem to yet be aware of his presence in the deep underground vault, and he planned on keeping it that way. He clutched his bow in his sweaty hands, the string magicked away. Two small, pointed blades protruded from the ends, reflecting what little light reached him. The walls were too close together for his liking, and he felt trapped. It wasn't hard to see why Fenrir had wanted freedom after years of imprisonment.

No one was guarding the door of his chamber, not anymore. They hadn't even bothered to fix what was left of the door or clean up the flaking blood of their comrades from the floor. Fenrir had torn several of his security guards apart, taking out his anxiety on them, most likely.

The prison was vast and warm, warmer than the rest of Jötunheim's tundra territory. From several rings of metal on the ceilings and walls Gleipnir was threaded into a series of complicated rings, two ends suspended from where the links had been disconnected. Despite the scene of gore around him, it was clean and rust free. He delicately touched the slim metalwork, and the magicked chain began to move, wrapping around his wrist at an incredible speed. It was thinner than anything Magni had ever seen, and by the time it had finished spinning around his wrist it was barely thicker than the leather vambrace it lay atop.

"We have an intruder." The deep growl of the ice Jötun behind him set Magni's heart pounding in his chest. At the unseen flick of his finger over a switch, the blades on his bow sunk back into the metal framework, the bowstring rematerializing. Wordlessly the boy reached for an arrow from one of the quivers strapped between his shoulder blades. "Do you know what we do with intruders here, boy?"

Magni notched his arrow, took a deep breath, and spun around. The Jötun fell as the knight behind him wrenched his sword from the body with a loud, wet smack.

"Honestly, brother." Modi laughed as gore dripped from his broadsword. "Your hesitance will one day be your downfall."

"You mistake my patience for the unwant of killing." Magni explained, returning to arrow and capping his quiver. "I have retrieved the chain as the Allfather ordered."

"To Midgard, then."

"We are supposed to report back to the Allfather for further instruction." he corrected, slinging his bow across his back. Modi sheathed his sword, frowning at him. His eyes were narrowed, darkened in the shadows.

"He's just going to send us there anyway. Why not save him the trouble?" Modi shrugged, turning his back to his brother and leaving the room. Letting out a heavy, controlled breath, he followed, stepping around the leaking body to avoid the growing dark puddle of blood. Bodies—or, rather, pieces of them—were strewn across the hallway. Modi certainly knew how to make an entrance. Magni could only wonder how the new Jötun King would react to the news that the sons of an Aesir had managed to sneak past his soldiers, cut them to bits, and steal the one thing that could even the odds against Loki's powerful son.

"You would go rogue during a time of war?" he challenged, stepping to walk beside his brother. "Our grandfather has too much to worry about already without fearing a revolt by his own descendant flesh and blood. We will speak to him first." Magni waited for his brother to argue, and when he didn't, he sped up, walking just in front of him. As they approached the staircase he heard a laugh from his brother behind him.

"Kiss-ass." he teased, giving his brother's waist-length braid a good, sharp tug. Magni grunted, peeved when his brother did not let go of his hair, instead using it much like a leash. "I suppose you are right though. Fine, we will speak to him."

* * *

Heimdall greeted them stonily, as always, as he retrieved his sword. "You were wise in returning." he said to the young Lords. "Your grandfather awaits you in the Great Hall." The Watcher took his post just outside, and the twins followed after, Magni giving his brother a well-deserved, self-satisfied smirk before turning and making his away across the shimmering, renewed Bifröst. Modi stuck his tongue out at his brother's back, and the tall, dark man's mouth twitched in what counted as a smile in his books.

Odin was waiting for them in his throne room, sitting upon his high golden chair and clutching his spear. His gaze was trained at the windows, one hand covering the lower half of his face. His eye was glassy, clouded by the many thoughts that must have been wandering through his wise, ancient mind. He snapped to attention as the boys kneeled before their grandfather.

"Speak." he ordered, sounding impatient for a man who had time to daydream. Magni and Modi rose to their feet, feeling small in his presence. Modi could feel his heart pounding his chest. Since hearing about Nari, he couldn't quite see his grandfather in the same light anymore. He saw a King ready to kill innocents to punish the guilty, and not the man who'd taught him how to saddle and ride a beast.

"We have retrieved Gleipnir." Magni held his arm out, where the minuscule chain links were wrapped completely around his forearm.

"Good. Good." he said, and stood. Modi tried not to flinch, and partially succeeded. No one acknowledged it.

"We wish to go to Midgard." Modi blurted, and the old man's gaze turned on him. He could almost hear Magni's wish to slap his hand against his forehead in the slow, tense sigh expelled from his brother's nostrils.

"Will you carry a message for me, then?" When the boys nodded, he continued, "We have found an ally in Alfaheim. However, they refuse to leave their own lands, instead wishing to focus on protecting themselves."

_Cowards_, Modi wanted to spit, but bit his tongue instead to keep himself from uttering the words; for just a moment he could feel his brother look at him, waiting for his reaction. He nodded, placing a fist over his heart. His plates clinked loudly, echoing in the vast room. Magni repeated the gesture, and they both bowed their heads.

"I wish Godspeed on you both." he said, and they left. Once they were out of earshot from the King, Modi drew in a breath to speak.

"If you tell me 'I told you so,'" Magni said over his shoulder. "I will flog you within an inch of your pitiful existence." Modi could only laugh at his brother and give his braid an extra hard yank for the threat.

* * *

Pepper was doing her research, and Tony was neither surprised nor disappointed. She'd grabbed six books on Norse mythology from a bookstore down the block, and since three o'clock in the afternoon had been making notes and summarizing the legends for him. She had even written down the pronunciations of those incredibly not-English names. Tony poured them both a drink and joined her on the couch. She looked tired, and her face lit up at the curved glass of red wine in his hands. She dropped everything and reached for it with both hands.

"What have you learned?" he asked, dropping himself on the leather sofa next to her with a heavy sigh, and immediately she moved over to lean her head on his shoulder. Neither one was much of a cuddler, even after sex; they just liked to be close enough for physical contact, in case it was needed.

"Well, it's kind of hard to summarize almost eight hours of reading." she said. "All of the legends about Ragnarök coincide with what Thor told us. Did you know he's supposed to be married to a Goddess? Her name is Sif."

"Ooh." Tony hummed appreciatively as Pepper giggled saucily and took a generous sip of her wine. "Jane won't be happy to hear that."

"Especially since she's the Goddess of War." Pepper moved closer to Tony, just enough so that his arm, draped over the back of the couch, could prop her head up as she let it fall backwards, closing her eyes. "And you should ask him about the time Thrym stole his hammer."

"Who?"

"_Sir_," JARVIS interrupted, and the couple simultaneously let out a heavy exhasperated breath. "_The Avengers have just engaged in battle on Broadway._"

Tony wasn't looking directly at her, but he could feel Pepper's head turn and stare at him pointedly. He cocked his head to the side at her knowing glance. "You know," he said, "I've heard that's a great play."

"_Go_," she urged, taking his shot glass from him and standing. "I'll still be here when you get back."

"Well, in that case," Tony jumped up from the sofa, pausing to stretch his arms over his head. "I guess I can spare some of my time this evening. Cancel the meeting for tomorrow then."

"Your meeting's at four in the afternoon," Pepper reminded him, but when he looked over his shoulder she was already getting her leather bound planner and picking up a pen.

"Right. Cancel it." he repeated with a wink. "Ten minutes at the most."

* * *

Natasha had heard Thor's stories about the Bilgesnipe, that the ugly creatures has just enough brain power to figure out how to destroy something. But she'd never actually imagined having to fight against one, or that her bullets didn't work unless shot at the perfect angle in the meager spaces between their dark, pearly scales or into their black eyes. They were four times the size of a bear, complete with large black claws and antlers sharp enough to easily impale five cars (which were amusingly stuck onto one creature's head). And they were fast, incredibly so that one of them was upon Natasha in mere minutes. With a shrill roar its paw snapped out, batting her away easily. She dropped her guns somewhere as she hit the pavement, pain resonating through her body from her shoulder where she landed, rolled, and slid. It trapped her beneath the dark claws, slowly pushing the air from her lungs. Steve shouted her name before yelping in pain. The creature's wide mouth opened, thick clear gobs of saliva dripping from them. Natasha realized with dread that she was not going to get away from this. She was actually going to die.

And then a large silver blade easily plunged through the creature's skull. Red blood spilled like a waterfall from its head, splashing on her exposed legs before it fell to the side with a loud thump, taking a good chunk of an evacuated apartment complex with it. Natasha crawled to her feet, watching in a mix of awe and horror as the armored boy wrenched his sword free. He seemed completely opposite from the son of Loki, with short golden curls and bright brown eyes. His plates were a bluish silver, blood dripping from the polished metal. He smiled at her, dimpling his right cheek.

"I trust that you are not injured too badly, Milady?" he asked. Steve appeared next to her. His mask was torn in half, a large gash cut across his forehead. Natasha slowly shook her head yes, a knowing grin spreading across her face as she pieced together the puzzle before her.

"And you are?" Steve asked. The boy gave his sword a stiff shake, the gore staining the blade now splattering onto the pavement. He gave a slight bow.

"I am Modi, son of Thor." he said, just as Natasha knew he would. "My brother and I were sent as allies to the Midgardian forces." He looked around for a moment, assessing the damage done to their buildings and roadways. "Which seem to be severely lacking." he added skeptically.

"That's an understatement." Natasha said, spotting her guns and quickly running to retrieve them. Steve and Modi followed, quickly becoming acquainted with each other. She picked up her weapons and quickly reloaded her magazines. "We could use all the help we can get, especially if you're anywhere near the strength of your father."

She turned to see Modi grinning, much in the same way as the trigger-happy recruits in S.H.I.E.L.D. did when given a gun. He flexed his metal-gloved fingers on the hilt of his sword, looking beyond them. Steve was pale in the face. Natasha turned to see why the boy was so happy. Part of her wasn't surprised when her eyes lay on the large black wave stampeding toward them.

"Aren't there two of you?" she asked, and heard the boy laugh behind her; it was mirth born of pure ecstasy, and it didn't tell of anything good.

"We have a bet." he explained, and that was all he said before leaping before them, headfirst into the oncoming crowd of animals. Natasha could only wonder if their new allies would be any help at all before looking at Steve, who shrugged, and both Avengers jumped into the fray.

* * *

Thor had destroyed many of these creatures before, but never had there been so many in one herd. Bilgesnipe were _not_ socialistic animals, and never had he expected to be ambushed by so many that the few seconds that it would take him to summon Mjölnir could mean his death. He held one stenching mouth open, otherwise allowing the large teeth to clamp down upon his neck, and busy kicking the other four away. They were toying with him, believing him had. The Man of Iron was busy flying around, looking for a weak spot somewhere on their backs and sides. Most of the time his bright white lasers would ricochet off a gleaming scale, causing the man to fly to avoid being hit by his own attack.

"I swear to God, Thor!" his mechanized voice echoed above him. "If you don't get your brother back to Asgard—properly caged this time, mind you—I'll probably kill him myself!" Tony fired another cannon blast, this one landing in the eye of one of the beast. With a hard squeal it fell, and Thor redirected the snapping jaws onto the neck of its dead companion, throwing himself to his stomach to avoid a large black claw. He rolled to the right and leapt up in time to see a barrage of arrows flying towards them. They embedded themselves into the creature's brains, necks, and chests, and the fell over. Thor looked carefully at one, noting the way int which the wood had been whittled and how the phoenix feathers were tied on the ends in that certain way. He turned his gaze into the thinning fog of debris dust to see a very familiar and heartwarming silhouette walking towards them. Anthony Stark landed beside him, his mask sliding away.

"Dear God." he mused. "It's actually Legolas."

Magni raised an eyebrow at the other man but said nothing. He looked just as he had when he'd left for Alfheim, but his hair was about a yard longer, swinging back and forth behind his back in a long braid. In one hand he clutched a bow of shimmering silver metal, his other hand wrapped gingerly about the hilt of Mjölnir. When Stark saw this, his jaw dropped unbelievably, but Thor only smiled at his son and accepted his weapon from him.

"I did not expect you would be here." he said. Magni grinned and looked about them at the large black corpses.

"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty-one, -two, -three." he counted. "Sixty-three kills. I think I've won."

Thor shook his head, sighing heavily, but he was smiling. "You and your brother should not be making bets on such things as kills in battle. It only encourages his rash behavior."

"He could use a bit of encouragement."

"Whoat, wait." Tony stepped between them, putting a hand on Thor's shoulder. Magni tensed, his eyes locking onto the glow that reflected against his father's pauldrons. "Can you hit the pause button on your cute little back-and-forth and explain to me who this kid is? And why can he pick up your hammer? Not even the Hulk could do that."

At the mention of his name, the giant green beast appeared, landing close enough to the stranger to make him jump; he immediately notched two arrows against his bowstring. Hulk growled at him, crouching and ready to attack. Thor immediately stepped between them.

"Enough of this. Magni, lower your weapon." Thor did not move or speak another word until he had done just that. At the unaggressive action, the Hulk huffed and straightened slightly. His bright green eyes never left the child. "Stark, I want to introduce to you to one of my sons, Magni."

Magni's eyes flickered to Tony, he nodded once, and then looked back again to the Hulk. The beast simply stared back at him.

"These are my teammates—my friends," he corrected, his palm still held out to keep his son stationary. "They are part of the Midgardian forces here."

"Part of? Or the whole? There do not seem to be many warriors."

"Tell me about it." Tony said, those piercing blue eyes once again flicking toward him. "Let's save all of the fun little introductions for later. For now, we need to do a quick sweep of the city, make sure we got those bastards." Tony jabbed a thumb to one of the many large corpses behind him. "Besides, Pepper's been waiting for me for almost half an hour now, and, considering she used to work for me, she's really not all that patient."


End file.
